Absolution
by CatS81
Summary: Set directly after the series 9 episode, 'Solidarity', Boyd finally goes to the hospital to see Grace...


**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

**Pairing**: Boyd/Grace.

**Content**: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Fluff. One-shot.

**Rating**: T; for language, adult situations.

**Spoilers**: Series 9, 'Solidarity'.

**A/N**: Okay, after watching last week's episode, 'Solidarity', I just couldn't help writing an add-on! I think it starts off reasonably realistically before descending into fluff...and I have to say, I don't think it's my best work so it'll be interesting to see what you all make of it! This is set a few days after the end of the episode...

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><p>Peter Boyd strode down the brightly lit hospital corridor, the clean smell of chemical sterility filling his nostrils and seeping into the pores of his skin. His heart was pounding powerfully in his chest, his mouth dry with anticipation as he rounded the corner, his feet slowing to a halt outside of the door to his destination. He took a deep breath, his lungs expanding gratefully as he fought the rising torrent of anguish in his chest. <em>She could have died. I forced her into that position and she could have died. <em>He closed his eyes against the thought, aware that she would in all likelihood scold him for it and he raised his hand to knock at the door, unable to prevent a slow smile from forming as he heard her gentle voice bidding him admission.

Grace Foley turned around as he entered, her features registering her surprise at his presence, her fingers stilling in their task of packing her belongings into her bag. He felt relief flood every fibre of his being as he noted the healthy glow to her skin, the brightness shimmering in the depths of her sapphire eyes and he felt his smile broaden.

"Hi," he opened softly, his eyes following the movements of her body as she drew her plum cardigan tighter about the soft curves of her figure protectively.

"Hi," she replied with a confused frown, instantly grateful for her hastily applied makeup and then silently berating herself for the frivolous notion, for the uncontrollable self-consciousness that had snaked unbidden into her chest.

"How are you?"

Grace felt her frown deepen, resisting an urge to finger the light bandage which adorned her temple. "I'm...fine," she said haltingly, a sigh escaping her lips along with the words. "What are you doing here, Boyd?"

He shrugged with a feigned nonchalance to assuage the guilt that threatened to crush his chest, moving further into the room. "The hospital called and said you were being discharged. I thought I'd give you a lift home."

She raised an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic chivalry. "I was going to get a taxi..."

"So I'll save you the trouble."

"It wouldn't have been any trouble."

He blew out his breath. "Oh, for God's sake, Grace; shall I go out and come in, and we can start this conversation again?"

She smiled, her eyes twinkling as she instantly relented. "Not necessary."

"Good. Get your stuff, then."

"Give me five minutes, okay?"

He nodded, slumping into the chair next to the bed and continuing to watch her as she gathered the remainder of her clothing and toiletries that were scattered haphazardly around the room. Momentarily he took a breath to speak, an acute need to fill the silence with talk of their mutual work resonating throughout his mind. "So, Bonnie and Ralph were the ones who..."

Grace held up a palm. "I know; Spence and Sarah filled me in."

He raised his eyebrows, forcing away the regret that gripped suddenly at his stomach. _I should've come before..._ "Right."

"We should've seen it sooner; Bonnie felt utterly betrayed by the father of her child, and when he confessed to his true motivation behind the ambush..."

"She lost the plot."

"She was blinded by righteous rage, Boyd. Her whole universe had been turned upside down in an instant by the man she loved and who she thought loved her."

"So all the time we were going down the MI5 route, we were just pissing in the wind."

"It was a reasonable angle to pursue. Murray's belief in Piers was genuine, as was his belief about the MOD police."

Boyd was quiet for several moments, trying to ignore the flames of jealousy that licked darkly at his heart at the mention of her former lover. "Anyway...Bonnie and Ralph are both on remand. It remains to be seen what kind of a sentence they'll end up with."

"But they'll both plead?"

"Oh, yeah. Spence took their statements and they've made a full confession." He blew out a derisory breath. "It's only taken them twenty eight years."

"Well...at least we got to the truth eventually."

"And I didn't even have to beat it out of them."

She smiled. "I'll have to take your word for that."

"I was the epitome of self-control, Grace. It _does_ happen from time to time."

"Hmm." She leant back against the edge of the bed, her eyes flickering across his frame and registering the tension he was clearly trying to suppress, despite the lightness he had injected into his tone. "So, Spence and Sarah..."

"What about them?"

"They're both pretty pissed off with you."

He was quick to blink away the anguish that flickered through the depths of his eyes. "Understandably."

She sighed, the breath rattling through her chest. "Boyd..."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Pissed off with me?"

She shook her head, slowly considering his question, the timbre of her voice soft as she answered. "No."

He exhaled noisily, running a hand across his face. "Why the hell not?"

"Do you really want me to indulge your no-doubt stifling guilt and crippling sense of responsibility, Boyd?"

He grimaced at her intuitive perceptiveness, the teasing lilt to her voice. "Grace..."

"Seriously; it was just one of those things."

"One of those things?" He barked an incredulous laugh. "You had a blood clot, for Christ's sake!"

"And I could just as easily not have had one. It was a chance occurrence..."

"Which was as a direct result of your fall."

She inclined her head. "True."

"Which happened because I made you go to that meeting."

She sighed. "You didn't _make_ me do anything. I'm a grown-up, Boyd; I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and of living with the consequences. If I'd have thought for one minute that Murray had killed Piers, I wouldn't have agreed to do what I did, alright?"

"Still..."

She allowed his answer to trail off into silence before speaking again, her eyes absorbing the despair he was desperately wrestling to gain control of. "Sarah thinks...that I can't say 'no' to you."

His gaze locked steadily to hers, wondering at the undertone to her words, feeling a frisson of electricity arc across the room between them. "Does she?"

Grace flushed despite herself and she was quick to elaborate, her blood rushing uncomfortably through her veins. "Well, not just me. Spence, Eve...all of us."

"I hope you told her that was bollocks."

"I did."

"And?"

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "She was quite insistent. She thinks it's the reason all of this happened, the reason Spence came back from National Crime Squad..."

He snorted derisively. "She's got the measure of us, then."

"She's not too far off the mark, you know; Spence is loyal to you, to a fault."

"And you, Grace?"

His tone was gentle and she felt her heart contract at the compounding sorrow in his charcoal eyes. "I don't think you need me to answer that, do you?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

She sighed, dropping her gaze beneath the intense scrutiny of his. "We've known each other for more than a decade, Boyd. You know how I...where I stand as far as you're concerned."

"Do I?"

"My loyalty's to the Unit. I've shown that repeatedly over the years, haven't I?"

"I wasn't talking about the..." He broke off with a heavy sigh. "Forget it."

She blinked, suddenly aware of the rapid increase of her pulse beneath her skin but forcing her tone to remain even, almost clinical. "I agreed with you, Boyd. My meeting with Murray was the only real way we could have proceeded. It had nothing to do with my alleged inability to say 'no' to you."

"I still put you under pressure; you can't deny that."

"You've always put me under pressure..."

He groaned. "Oh, God, Grace, I..."

"...but I like to think I can hold my own. I'd have fought you tooth and nail if I'd disagreed with you; surely you know that."

He smiled slightly in concession. "Yeah."

"So there's no reason for you to feel guilty. I don't want that hanging over us for the next who knows how long, alright?"

Her natural use of the objective pronoun caused his smile to broaden. "Fine."

"Shall we go, then?"

Boyd nodded, rising slowly from the chair and picking up her bag before she could protest, following her to the door. Almost in slow motion, he felt his hand rise to her waist seemingly of its own volition as she reached for the handle, her surprised gasp melting into a soft sigh as he turned her slowly back round to face him, the emotion he had tried so desperately to suppress throughout their conversation threatening to explode through his chest as he looked at her. _Jesus Christ, what the hell was I thinking? How could I have even thought about putting you in danger when I feel so damn...?_

"Forgive me," he whispered chokingly, the words clawing for release in his throat, the limitless compassion in her deep cerulean eyes intensifying his anguish, his crippling regret, his perpetual guilt.

Without thinking she stepped towards him, pulling him into her embrace, feeling his arms encircle her waist before slipping up her spine, her own hands mirroring his actions, tracing soothing circles across his back as she allowed her cheek to rest against his chest. "There's nothing to forgive," she murmured almost inaudibly, feeling him stoop to drop his head into the crook of her shoulder, his breath against her neck.

"So, forgive me anyway," he replied softly, his words muffled as he breathed in the comfortingly familiar scent of her perfume combined intoxicatingly with the essence that was so uniquely her.

She sighed, pulling away slightly to look at him, his unexpected and uncharacteristic proximity causing her heart rate to quicken, though her wantonly lustful thoughts were rapidly overridden by an acute need to reassure him. "I'm fine, Peter. I really am."

Her use of his Christian name was unfamiliar to his ears but he felt it embrace his heart with warmth, embalming his bruised soul with a healing light. "Grace..."

"It happened and we can't change it now. You just...you have to let it go."

"I don't...The way I feel about..." He broke off with a frustrated sigh. "Shit."

She laughed softly, amused by his inability to express himself. "You don't need to say it."

He brought up a hand to cup her face, his fingers tracing the length of her jaw, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek as he silently debated the wisdom of bringing his lips to hers, watching a veritable cascade of emotions flicker in succession through her eyes. She was intoxicating, he mused as his fingers continued in their exploration, learning the feel of her hair, the curved helix of her ear. _Christ, I don't deserve her..._

"Boyd...," she whispered huskily, fighting an almost uncontrollable urge to close her eyes, to moan softly in pleasure beneath his long overdue ministrations.

"I..." _Oh, God, I want to kiss you...More than kiss you..._The sudden revelation was so blindingly intense that it drove the breath from his body in a shuddering sigh and he felt himself begin to shake beneath the gargantuan effort of fighting the powerful instinct to claim her mouth, unsure of crossing the invisible line that had always existed between them.

"It's alright," she said softly, her intelligent eyes absorbing the conflicting emotions that played unguardedly across his face.

Boyd blew out his breath and shook his head, even as he continued to toy with her hair. "It's not. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Why?"

"Something to do with boundaries; real or imagined, I don't know."

She looked at him pointedly, sarcasm lacing her tone. "That's clear."

"It used to be, didn't it?"

"Did it?"

"Admit it, Grace. Things were easier when we were fighting all the time and could pretend we hated each other."

"Ah; so it _was_a pretence, then."

"Oh come on, you know it was."

She looked at him, unconsciously angling her head to give him closer access as his fingers slipped down the side of her neck before his thumb moved to caress her lips with agonisingly slow dexterity. "What are you saying, Boyd?"

He sighed loudly. "God, I don't know..."

"Would it be easier if I just gave you permission?"

"For...?"

She raised her eyebrows at his apparent obtuseness. "Seriously?"

He sighed again, the air plunging deeply into his lungs before being expelled forcefully. "I don't want to fuck this up, Grace."

"You're scared of being vulnerable."

"I wouldn't say scared..."

"You're worried that if you let your guard down, if you let yourself feel...that you won't be able to deal with me professionally anymore. That if a situation arises again like the one we just faced, you'll be too conflicted to handle it clinically."

"God, you're a witch. I always knew it."

She ignored him. "These feelings, Boyd...acknowledging them won't make them any less real."

"But acting on them; that's something completely different, isn't it?"

"Well...it's just a natural progression. It tends to be what happens when two people..."

"Jesus. How did we go from my pathetic attempt at apologising to...?" He broke off and gestured with his free hand.

"To...?"

He looked at her, the combination of strength, beauty and intelligence at once overwhelming him and he reached out, pulling her firmly towards him, banishing the remainder of his lingering doubts to the base of his skull. "You know, sometimes, Grace...thinking's too much like hard work."

With a low growl he swallowed her gentle laughter, his mouth caressing hers lightly before deepening the kiss with a moan, her lips parting readily beneath the passionate insistence of his tongue, his thumb continuing to caress her cheek as they hungrily explored each other's mouths. Momentarily she pulled away to look at him, the naked lust permeating his dark eyes causing her to gasp in surprise.

"What?" he asked, a slow grin spreading across his features at the flattering glow which had infused her cheeks.

"Nothing. It's just...I knew that you...that we each felt...but I didn't think you..."

Realisation dawned as her stumbling words faded and he laughed softly. "You're kidding."

"I'm nearly sixty five, Peter. I'm in the worst shape I've ever been in in my life and..."

"And your point is?"

She blinked. "That I didn't think you found me attractive; at least not physically."

He groaned theatrically and rolled his eyes, incredulous that she could be so utterly oblivious to her own allure. "Christ."

"I mean it, I..."

"Jesus Christ, Grace..."

He pulled her towards him, wanting desperately to reassure her as his lips descended on hers once more, kissing her roughly, deeply, passionately. She was breathless as he pulled back slightly to press his mouth gently to her neck, to caress her pulse point with his tongue, the air circulating through her lungs in quivering gasps, and he grinned wolfishly against her skin, arousal beginning to stir hotly in his blood.

"Alright?" he murmured throatily, his smile broadening at her reactive husky moan, his lips continuing to worship her neck in response to her pleasured sighs, thrilled by her complete lack of resistance, her clearly enraptured complicity.

"Take me home," she said eventually as he pulled away to kiss her softly for a final time on the mouth, instantly missing the feel of his lips but placated by the caress of his hands at her waist.

He smiled warmly. "You may never get rid of me, you know."

Her responding smile was brilliant, the implication behind his words making her soul sing, butterflies dancing enthusiastically in her stomach. "I think I can live with that."

With a final squeeze of her waist he encouraged her exit from the room, a sense of peace, of utter tranquillity, of long-awaited and contented resolution warming the depths of his heart and flooding his soul with joy as they made their way, hand in hand, towards the car park.

FIN


End file.
